Love Scenes Are Not Weird

Anna Paquin has revealed that she does not find it awkward to shoot love scenes opposite her real-life husband Stephen Moyer on True Blood. The actress, who plays the telepathic waitress Sookie Stackhouse on the HBO series, confessed that she feels comfortable when filming sex scenes with Moyer.

"Maybe it should be weird, simulating sex with your husband in front of people? But it's really not," Paquin told V Magazine. "When it's a love scene with someone you actually love, there's no feeling like, 'Can I touch him here? Can I touch him there?' You know what your boundaries are - or what they aren't, I suppose."


Paquin went on to say that she is not jealous of the attention that Moyer receives for his portrayal of the vampire Bill Compton. "There's probably something wrong with me, but I find it amusing to watch these men and women fawn all over [Moyer]," Paquin admitted. "It's not like anyone's really trying to do anything inappropriate. They just want him to hug them... or bite them."

Moyer revealed that his wife doesn't mind when he gets close with fans of the HBO series. The actor claimed in an interview with Men's Health that Paquin is not intimidated by True Blood's often aggressive female fanbase and even allows him to "bite boobs" on occasion. "I get to sign boobs a lot. I get to bite boobs, occasionally, when I'm allowed," Moyer explained. "If my missus is there and she approves of the person I get to bite boobs... and necks."

Moyer, who married Paquin in August 2010, also revealed that he felt an immediate attraction to her on their first meeting as he was "intrigued" by her demeanour. "I was intrigued by her. She was very open about work. But she was withdrawn [personally]," he said. "I was like, 'Here I am; here's everything I got.' I remember leaving the screen test and thinking, 'God, I'd like to spend more time with her.'"
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There's A Stigma About Nudity

Emmy Rossum has admitted that she has been surprised by the reaction to her nude scenes on Shameless.

Speaking at Comic-Con, Rossum explained that she doesn't understand why people are so fascinated by the fact that she strips off on the show. "There's a stupid stigma about it," she said. "It's just a body, it isn't anything. It doesn't say who you are inside."


Rossum continued: "I think I revealed way more on this show in scenes where I got to be unattractive and lonely than I ever did in a scene where I was having sex with my boyfriend. People are all a tizzy about it."

Rossum has previously joked that everyone on Shameless is "going to hell" because of their involvement in controversial scenes.

The show has been renewed for a second season by Showtime. The first season is currently airing in the UK on Thursdays at 10pm on More4.
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True Blood S04E04

Lindsay Pulsipher came on board True Blood last season as Crystal Norris and was given a difficult assignment: Star in numerous scenes with Ryan Kwanten's Jason Stackhouse, often while the latter was shirtless. The actress can look forward to more of the same on season four. "I find it absolutely disturbing," she joked in an interview today. As we all know Lindsay will be portraying Crystal Norris who was described in casting calls as a young girl in her 20s who is barefoot wearing a sundress and shares an electric connection with Jason before disappearing into the trees. We knew that her character was to become Jason‘s new love interest. She gives us all the info about playing a character who is constantly sporting a black eye and nudity on camera...

Crystal has a difficult time of it. She's getting punched, she constantly has black eyes... what is that like to play as an actress?

You know, it's really fun. It's always exciting when you have something physical to throw yourself into. I like to describe it as a playground. True Blood is truly a playground. You get to go in and just let loose and completely just have fun and play around. There is so much freedom on set. It was so much fun to go through all of those different things. It was always exciting.

Is it a prerequisite walking in that you have to get naked at some point?

You kind of understand going in. I’m on “True Blood,” I’m probably going to be naked!

I've had endless discussions about the show and I think that one of the things that make it so successful is that it has no boundaries. When you were cast in this, was one of the first thoughts you had about how you'd probably have to do nudity?

[laughs] Oh yes! That definitely crossed my mind! Especially when I knew I was going to be Jason Stackhouse's love interest. [laughs] Okay, so the clothes are coming off! But all of that just sort of falls to the background. You don't really think about it. I was just so excited to be on the show and thought, oh well, I can totally handle that!

[laughs] Besides, everyone on the show is naked anyway!

Yeah! I'm in good company!

Nevertheless True Blood is known for it’s eye brow raising scenes...

I wasn't worried about it because I'd talked to the show and they agreed to allow me to step out of the scene when I'm uncomfortable with the nudity. I have a very trusting relationship with the producers. They have been very understanding, allowing me to use a body double. Right off the bat I felt comfortable with that.

So you’re a sexy were-panther! Finally it’s out!

I know! I’m so glad it’s out there! It feels so good to have that out in the world and I don’t have to avoid the question anymore.

So what’s the difference between a were-panther and a panther? What are you exactly?

Well, I’m a were-panther and I think that, that means that I am a super-powered panther basically. So she’s a very strong panther.

How do you shoot something like that? Do you just have to sit around there naked and then they swap you out for a panther?

Basically that’s what you do. You sit around naked for a few hours and then they bring in the panther and then you watch the panther get shot for a couple of hours because it doesn’t always do what you want it to do. They actually showed me a rough transformation right there on set. They edited one together. As soon as I saw that I was like “Oh my god! This is going to be so cool!”


Television Series: True Blood (S04E04- I'm Alive and on Fire)
Release Date: July 2011
Actress: Lindsay Pulsipher
Video Clip Credit: Zither










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The Curse of Arbitrary Censorship

I devoured The Walking Dead in two days, writes Louis Peitzman. (Get it? Because it's a show about zombies.) To be fair, the first season is only six episodes -- and I've got the added incentive of catching up before Comic-Con. See also: my seemingly endless marathon of The Vampire Diaries. Having read The Walking Dead comics, I mostly knew what to expect. But holy crap, no one told me the series was going to be so violent...

Perhaps that sounds naïve: It's a show about the zombie apocalypse. Exactly what did I expect? Still, it's jarring to see so much blood and gore on television. And this is coming from someone who is pretty damn desensitized. (I own The Devil's Rejects and The Human Centipede on Blu-ray. I'm not bragging.) What I mean is, I have no problem with violence, and I actually thought The Walking Dead handled it really well. In fact, the show offers some of the most stunning gore I have seen. Violence can be beautiful -- if you don't believe me, check out those glistening arcs of zombie blood when the walkers get shot in the head.


That having been said, I appreciate the effect violence can have on a person. I'm certainly not going to revert back to the very '90s argument that media violence causes violent behavior in young people -- it's stupid and reductive and largely disproven. But as someone who takes in a lot of gloriously violent entertainment, I understand that it can have some sort of effect on one's psyche. Desensitization. Nightmares. Boredom with movies that don't contain viscera. And none of this is to say that we should censor our shows, but to point out that yes, I at least get where the argument to do so is coming from. But I say that only to draw attention to our ridiculous double standards. A zombie hacked into pieces? No problem. The glimpse of a woman's nipple? WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN.

The Walking Dead is the best example in recent memory of the incredible divide between our cultural perception of violence vs. sex and language. We embrace blood -- even on networks that won't allow the mere utterance of "shit," we can see a character get both of his eyes gouged out. (The Vampire Diaries. Don't worry, they grew back.) In a show that can't reveal too much bare flesh, a character's fingernail is ripped off. (Supernatural. It was a Christmas-themed episode, if you can believe that.) These moments of horror are what keep me up at night. So why do they get a free pass while sex and dirty words are kept under wraps?

There are plenty of actual reasons why we're so squeamish about boobies and -- oh, God, I can barely even say it -- penises. And when it comes to language, naughty swears are one of the few things I think kids really do copy. (I don't necessarily think that's a problem, but we'll save that for another blog post.) But instead of focusing on where these social mores come from, let's chat a bit about changing them. Rest assured, nervous parents, I have no real control over the FCC.

Teenagers have sex, whether or not they see bare breasts on TV. They use a slew of four-letter words you'd never hear on ABC Family. But no matter how much torture porn you shove down their throats, teenagers (for the most part) don't eviscerate their friends and family. If they do, there's probably something else going on. What exactly are we shielding young people from, then? Whatever they can't find on TV, they figure out on their own. Watching a cop show in which all the gritty characters say "friggin'" takes you out of the moment -- and it's not like we don't know what they'd be saying in real life.

More nudity and cursing on TV! It's a weird crusade, and I don't think it's exactly the most important cause I've taken on. But I'm interested in the implications of a media culture that exalts violence while denigrating sex and "bad" language. It's not a matter of condoning violence -- no one would argue that a series like The Walking Dead is suggesting we should get our bite on. Why the other restrictions, though? I'm not saying we should have porn on every channel (well, I'm not not saying it... ), but what about some equal representation? If we're going to show relentless brutality, is a little more explicit sexuality going to hurt? It's ludicrous that The Walking Dead can show a squirming torso leaving a trail of slime behind it while Mad Men has to include a content warning before an episode featuring ONE tasteful nude photo.

OK, our censorship is arbitrary. But does it really matter? I think so. I look at a series like Twilight, in which vampires and werewolves do some serious damage, but which greatly suppresses sexuality. This is obviously an extreme example: Twilight is a parable of sexual repression. It is, however, a very popular one, and in the context of this cultural disparity, what does it teach young people? One baser urge is fodder for cheap thrills, while the other should be kept hidden at all costs. And let's be real, sex and violence are natural urges -- our job is to keep them in check as we see fit. So why, in entertainment, can't we treat them the same? And hey, if someone drops the occasional F-bomb, that's OK, too.

Nudity on TV won't turn us all into sex-crazed perverts -- no more so than we already are. I'm as sure of that as I am that The Walking Dead's jaw-dropping violence won't turn us into zombies.
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Nudity, Sex And Censorship

From covered up navels and married couples sleeping in separate beds, to
skimpy bikinis, barely-there dance costumes and in-your-face sexual
encounters, TV Guide Network pulls back the sheets for the
first-ever special dedicated to the evolution of nudity, sexual content
and censorship on American television. Narrated by actress Brenda Strong
of the racy television series Desperate Housewives, SEX ON TV premieres
Sunday, August 15 at 8:00 p.m. ET/PT.

With archival clips and commentary from media and pop culture experts, SEX ON TV documents the progression of titillation, nudity and sex that
has been captivating television audiences since the 1950s. The two-part
special shows how television pushed the envelope by making once taboo
topics trendy. From the characters of Gidget and I Dream of Jeannie,
who were required to cover their navels, and the birth of jiggle TV
with Charlies Angels, to the popular yet risqu shows of today, SEX
ON TV examines the changing landscape of television, including how
the networks regulated content to reflect the evolution of society with
the understanding that less clothing meant higher ratings.


Sex hasn’t changed over the years but how Americans view sex through
television certainly has. This special focuses on how the country’s
views on sex have evolved, says Diane Robina, TV Guide Networks
Executive Vice President of Programming and Marketing.

SEX ON TV highlights historical television moments including
the first interracial kiss between Nancy Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. and
the first same-sex kiss on L.A. Law that provoked nationwide debate
and encouraged television to reflect a more progressive society. The
two-part special also examines the argument between salacious nudity
versus nudity deemed justified by being a reflection of real-life events
such as in the mini-series Roots.

As network television slowly tested the sexual boundaries, NYPD Blue
aired an uncompromising sex scene in the series premiere that became a
pivotal moment in sex on television. Despite the public outcry over the
minute-long scene, the drama became a critical and commercial hit and
paved the way for networks to take more risks.

SEX ON TV also looks at beginning of basic and premium cable
channels and how they influenced network television.
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True Blood S04E03

Recently, True Blood’s Courtney Ford was interviewed by Collider about her role of Portia Bellefleur on the show. She talks about auditioning for two other roles before landing the role of Portia and about learning to overcome her own anxieties of being nude on camera...

How did you get involved with True Blood? What was your auditioning process like?

I auditioned for Season 2, for Daphne, the shape-shifter. And then, I auditioned for Season 3, for Debbie Pelt. The feedback was, “Oh, we really like her, but we really want Joe Manganiello and he’s 6’5″. That will be a foot height difference, and that’s just not going to work out.” That was heartbreaking because I was such a huge fan of the show. I never missed an episode. And then, I got an opportunity to audition for Season 4, for Portia Bellefleur, and that was it. I met with them once. I went in and casting was there and Alan Ball was there, and then I went to my car and right when I got home, I got the call that I got the role.

When you get a casting notice that says “the actress must be comfortable with nudity,” what is that like? Is that something you have to put thought into before agreeing, or is that something you’re comfortable with, depending on how it fits with the character?

There are so many ways to think about it. Both on Dexter and on True Blood, people are getting killed and there’s blood everywhere, but then if you think, “Oh no, I see boobies! How dare you?” something is wrong there. How can you be okay with murder, but not be okay with the natural state of the human body? I think that’s more of an American prudishness coming through, but then again, I am American, so I have that feeling of, “Oh, my god!” I’m not the most comfortable with it, but I have to put it out of my mind and pretend it’s not happening, and I have to call my grandmother and tell her not to watch that episode.

It makes you feel very vulnerable, but hopefully – and it has been in my case – the actor that you’re playing opposite is very courteous and considerate, and tries to make a joke out of the whole thing and tries to make you laugh, so it really takes your mind off of it. It actually ends up being very technical. I know actors say that all the time, and then you watch it on screen and you’re like, “Oh, they seem so in-the-moment and passionate,” but it really, truly isn’t like that. Someone is saying, “Okay, stop and move your face half an inch to the left. Can you bend down a little bit? Can you move a little bit less? Can you move more? Don’t block his face.” You have all these people looking at you and directing your every movement, so there is no romance or spontaneity that you would have, in that situation, in real life.


Television Series: True Blood (S04E03- If You Love Me, Why Am I Dyin'?)
Release Date: July 2011
Actress: Courtney Ford
Video Clip Credit: Zither











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Naked Fantasy And Prudish Critics

Salon’s TV critic Matt Zoller Seitz commented yesterday on the wave of negative commentary that has been elicited by the presence of allegedly gratuitous nudity on the show. Heading up the flock of critics calling on cable television to take it down a notch, Mary McNamara suggests in the Los Angeles Times that “it’s time to tone down the tits.” Taking the successful fantasy show as an example that “points to a larger problem,” McNamara uses the opportunity to take HBO to task more generally for the levels of “unnecessary” full frontal nudity on shows like Boardwalk Empire, Rome, and others.

Making a pointed and detailed argument in favor of the alleged use of “sexposition” on Game of Thrones, Seitz argues that there are in fact very few scenes on the show where scenes of sex and nudity do not fulfill a narrative, dramatic or thematic function. Instead, he makes the point that the ongoing criticism shows up American prudishness at its worst: “This is America’s Puritan mentality coming home to roost in criticism. Closeups of throats being slit and limbs being lopped off are an expected part of R-rated entertainment aimed at adult viewers, and not even worthy of comment. But nudity and sex must be ‘justified.’”


Now there are plenty of cable channels that routinely go to the “sex sells” well in obvious attempts to cash in on HBO’s success with adult-oriented content. Showtime is the most obvious offender, every one of its high-profile shows (from The L Word and Californication to The Tudors and Dexter) a high-concept weak sister of a superior HBO production in one way or another. These shows douse the audience in T&A in ways that make you feel like taking a long, cool shower after watching even a single episode, their appeal largely defined by their network’s naughty deviation from American television’s puritanical restrictions. (AMC meanwhile seems to have chosen to push it in the other direction, its biggest hits like Mad Men, Breaking Bad and The Walking Dead offering R-rated levels of violence, but playing coy with nudity.) But again, none of Showtime’s productions seem to have led to an outcry among critics in the way that Game of Thrones has.


It seems to me that it’s no coincidence that critics and viewers find it uncomfortable to witness onscreen nudity on a genre show like Game of Thrones, while similar amounts of naked flesh on The Sopranos and True Blood are rarely remarked on. The fantasy genre, after all, has been all but neutered by the absurdly chaste narrative worlds of Tolkien, Lewis, Rowling, and others who have kept it mired in stunted pre-adolescent sexuality for decades. A popular TV show like Game of Thrones that forcibly relocates fantasy into a decidedly adult sensibility is therefore bound to ruffle a few feathers. As Seitz rightfully points out, there is something absurd about how extreme violence in a show like this is perfectly all right, while the relatively restrained and almost always matter-of-fact approach to sexuality is considered exploitative and inappropriate in that context. And perhaps this will help increase the profile of fantasy and sci-fi authors working outside of the more traditional, “neutered” version of the genre. Besides George R.R. Martin, whose books have naturally flourished with the success of the series, these also include the phenomenal China Miéville and Kim Stanley Robinson, whose work would indeed lend itself to intelligent adaptations aimed at mature audiences.
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In Defence Of "Unnecessary" Nudity

In defence of HBO's "unnecessary" nudity or why a newspaper editorial about the naked bodies on the pay cable channel is a remnant of the Puritan mentality by Salon's Matt Zoller Seitz...

"Maybe it's time to tone down the tits," writes Mary McNamara, TV critic of the Los Angeles Times. She's talking to HBO, a cable channel that she says is "once again in full stride... with Emmy-winning movies, a panoply of well-done documentaries, successful comedies and dramatic hits both popular — 'True Blood' — and critical — 'Boardwalk Empire,' 'Treme.'" And now it has another hit, "Game of Thrones" -- a series based on George R.R. Martin's fantasy fiction that happens to include female nudity.

No operation that's producing this much good TV needs to be airing so much female nudity; that's the specious starting point of McNamara's column, the notion that nudity is not one ingredient in an R-rated stew of elements on HBO series -- "Game of Thrones" in particular -- but something that a cable channel shows because the programs themselves aren't interesting otherwise. Really, now, HBO, you're better than this, she's saying -- conveniently disregarding the fact that HBO has been showing sex and nudity, along with graphic violence and profanity, since its creation in 1975.


McNamara's editorial is not the first strike against unclothed feminine pulchritude on cable dramas, and against HBO's "Game of Thrones" in particular. The series has sparked debate about nudity and sex on cable TV, and especially what some critics have termed "sexposition" -- a term coined by TV critic Myles McNutt that refers to the delivery of supposedly routine plot information while characters are getting dressed, taking a bath, having sex, etc. "Game of Thrones" had several scenes like that during its ten-episode run. Vulture ran a half-cutesy, half-censorious slide show highlighting them.

"This oft-discussed criticism is a valid one, in my opinion," wrote Winter is Coming, blogging about the first season of "Game of Thrones." "It’s not just the use of sex and nudity while giving exposition that is the problem. It is the fact that the writers went to that well a few too many times. And some of those scenes worked better than others."

But McNamara's piece is easily the highest-profile strike against nudity on HBO. The Los Angeles Times is the dominant daily newspaper in the industrial capital of popular culture, the metro area where the majority of U.S. TV shows are made. Her tone seems measured and her complaints reasonable. And yet when you examine her arguments closely, a different agenda reveals itself. McNamara distinguishes between supposedly necessary and unnecessary nudity, and it's interesting, to put it sarcastically, which examples she chooses to put in which category.

"Breasts," she writes, "are what you see on cable during a lovemaking scene or when a character is caught unawares or when, as in the season finale of 'Game of Thrones,' the last of the Targaryen [family, Danerys Targaryen], rises, naked and miraculous, from her husband's funeral pyre with three baby dragons clinging to her....Tits are what you see in a strip club or a brothel, when conversations or action between men, which usually have nothing to do with said strip club or brothel, are surrounded by nameless and silent women lounging or gyrating about in various stages of undress... In one episode of 'Game of Thrones,' the upper frontals got so gratuitous — two women teaching themselves the tricks of prostitution while a male character, fully clothed, muses about his personal history and definition of power — that fans took to Twitter to complain. Even the fine finale included a young nude woman washing her particulars while her elderly john monologued about the nature of kings."

Let's start by admitting that not every single bit of nudity on "Game of Thrones" was so necessary that the show couldn't have done without it. There were indeed moments where the director of an episode cut away to a shot of some giggling half-naked woman during a scene set in a brothel, or had a semi-nude woman wander through the foreground or background of a shot while a couple of characters were conversing about whatever subject.

But for the most part, I would defend the vast majority of the nude and partly nude shots on "Game of Thrones" as, if not absolutely, totally integral to the plot, then at least imaginative enough pass muster as drama -- just not a drama that kids should be allowed to watch. Oh, hell, let's just go ahead and say it: most of them were as integral as TV scenes get.

The scene between Theon and the prostitute Ros, for example, starts by showing the final 30 seconds of their copulation, then quickly moves to Ros and Theon in conversation, with Theon carrying most of the scene's skin quotient; the point of the scene is to establish that they have a relationship founded entirely on sex and a power imbalance (he has power, she has none) and to deliver information about Theon's relationship to other characters. But the scene also reveals character. You can tell by their body language, facial expressions and tones of voice that Ros actually holds the upper hand in the relationship because, macho bluster aside, her john is smitten with her, and she's just doing what she needs to do to survive and get ahead. In a subsequent scene where Theon says goodbye to Ros as she's leaving the territory in a wagon, he seems to be trying hard to hide how bummed he is.

Another scene -- singled out by McNamara and other writers as gratuitous -- strikes me as one of the cleverest and most useful deployments of nudity on the series. It shows the character of Littlefinger, a brothel owner and power broker who still carries a torch for the widowed Lady Catelyn Stark, instructing Ros and another female prostitute on how to fake interest and enthusiasm during a tryst. Littlefinger's whole life is based on deception, on making people believe in whatever lie he's selling; he's also a personally very seductive character whose fortune is built on the flesh trade. Littlefinger is a fascinating yet ultimately pathetic man, and as I look back on this scene, I would say that it tells us more about him than any other single moment in season one of "Game of Thrones."

McNamara, however, looks at the scene and sees only "tits." And she finds it indefensible compared to the final shot of the season -- the slow pullback that shows the naked, symbolically "reborn" Danerys with the baby dragons, a shot that is deliberately framed and lit to evoke the decidedly non-carnal glory of a Renaissance painting of the Virgin Mary.

The other scene McNamara singles out as problematic -- the scene where "a young nude woman wash[es] her particulars while her elderly john monologue[s] about the nature of kings" -- is even more defensible as drama. The character, Maester Pycelle, was set up with Ros specifically so that Littlefinger could glean where he stood on the issue of the young king Joffrey taking the throne. He tells Ros not what he actually thinks, but what he wants Littlefinger to hear -- that he thinks Joffrey will make a great king -- and when she leaves, he does a series of energetic squats which reveal that he's not the doddering, hapless old man others think he is.

Also: Littlefinger is a brothel owner (as in the literary source), and he is therefore ideally suited to dole out sexual favors and get information (his stock-in-trade) in return. McNamara's complaint that the "GOT" scenes set in brothels didn't need to be set in brothels doesn't track. So the brothel owner should have more conversations outside his place of business, the place where he feels most comfortable and is most in control? The critic wonders if there is "some sort of private office where madams and menfolk could talk. I also wonder about all this free nudity — doesn't money have to exchange hands before the clothes come off?" Er, no and no -- not in the sort of establishment that Littlefinger runs. Her gripe also misses an important point, that Littlefinger is betting that the combination of liquor and carnal pleasure and flattery of heterosexual male fantasy will loosen visitors' lips and reveal information that he can use elsewhere -- and he's often proved right.

The fact that McNamara approves of the nudity in the dragon scene but not the Littlefinger "faking it" scene or the scene with old Maester Pycelle is telling. It's of a piece with a tediously moralizing strain in American criticism, one which insists that all sex and nudity must be dramatically "justified," even if it occurs on a TV series based on a highly sexual series of fantasy novels that take place in a male-dominated world in which women fight tooth and nail for power, and achieve it.

The phrase "sexposition," however catchy and cute, is a loaded one, and maddening. It concedes that the makers of a particular R-rated TV series have gone out of their way to blend theoretically prurient sex and nudity with actual storytelling, but are being taken to task anyway. Not once in any scene of the show's first season did the filmmakers show unclothed or copulating characters without some kind of necessary plot movement happening at the same time, always giving the narrative element prominence. And when you look at the total running time of season one of "Game of Thrones" -- somewhere around 600 minutes -- less than five percent of its running time featured sex or nudity of any kind. Viewed in its totality, "Game of Thrones" is a chaste show. And yet the sex and nudity are constantly being scrutinized and judged for being "necessary" or "unnecessary."

Meanwhile, as I have noted elsewhere, neither McNamara nor other critics editorializing about supposedly excessive nudity and sex on "Game of Thrones" ever say so much as one measly word about the intensely graphic violence and raunchy language on the series.

For the record, I don't have a problem with any of the violence or language on "Game of Thrones," either; it's set in a Dungeons and Dragons-flavored version of Hobbes' State of Nature, and as such, we should expect to see elemental human activities depicted often, and with gusto, and if we have a problem with that, we shouldn't be watching. I just find it grimly amusing that, for whatever reason, sex and nudity must be handled with special care, and must always be "necessary" and utterly unimpeachable in their presentation, yet profanity and violence are rarely held to such such standards. This is America's Puritan mentality coming home to roost in criticism. Closeups of throats being slit and limbs being lopped off are an expected part of R-rated entertainment aimed at adult viewers, and not even worthy of comment. But nudity and sex must be "justified."

There's a useful discussion to be had here about the dominance of the male gaze and how it informs the programming choices of HBO and other cable channels. I agree with the implication -- and that's unfortunately all it is in the L.A. Times piece, an implication -- that HBO dramas such as "Game of Thrones" and "Boardwalk Empire" are too often set in a "man's world" filled with crime, violence and various sorts of exploitation, and that the producers' decision of whom to show in coitus and when tends to confirm that popular culture is still run by straight, white men, with every other sexual point-of-view getting served as an afterthought, if at all. (Where are the editorials complaining about excessive sex and nudity on HBO's vampire soap "True Blood", by the way? Are copious amounts of sex and nudity OK on a series as long as it's not trying to be "serious"?)

As I said before in Salon, there is nothing wrong with the heterosexist-centered nudity on "Game of Thrones" that more male nudity and same-sex couplings wouldn't balance out. But that holds true only if that is, in fact, the problem that a viewer has with a series -- too much female nudity in heterosexual contexts, not enough nudity of other sorts.

If, however, the problem is that the viewer is "taken out" of the show by seeing naked people in general -- or that the sight makes him or her uncomfortable compared to graphic violence and language -- well, that's a whole other discussion, and probably not a productive one, because then we're getting into subjective matters of sensibility.

This whole argument is misdirected and misses the larger, more important picture: Whose fantasy is HBO indulging, why is it indulging it, and what other sorts of fantasies could it cater to?

But that's not the takeaway from McNamara's piece. The takeaway is another remnant of America's Puritan mentality, which holds that female nudity is dramatically "unnecessary" and unacceptable unless it's divorced from sex.

It all reminds me of a Jack Nicholson quote from the 1970s, complaining about the hypocrisy of the MPAA ratings system: "Cut off a woman's tit with a sword, they give you a PG. Kiss it, and it's an R."
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True Blood S04E02

Janina Gavankar (Luna) is making her mark on Season 4 of True Blood as a new Bon Temps shapeshifter who’s captured Sam Merlotte’s heart. When Wetpaint Entertainment spoke with Janina in an exclusive interview, she talked candidly about filming nude scenes in freezing weather...

True Blood is known for having its actors show a lot of skin. Are those scenes difficult or awkward to film?

Janina Gavankar: It’s difficult when you’re in 34-degree weather, which is what that first lounging around [scene was.]

It was 34 degrees?!

Yeah it was freezing. Scott [Winant] — the director of that episode — was telling me that he was walking and his foot crunched on something and he looked down and it was ice. I‘m so glad nobody told me that in the moment. He said that at some point he remembers me losing control of my mouth, my lips started freezing. You can tell on camera. So in that regard — environmentally — it is difficult.

Awkward? It can be, but this is Season 4 and everybody is so used to it at this point that it’s like, whatever. It’s an incredibly smart show. I’m much more worried about getting every single moment right and building a character that’s real. In that moment that is of the utmost importance, not the fact that the whole crew can see my boobs. And millions and millions of people watching in the end. The crew who have seen it all before, and then some, I’m not really worried about them.


Television Series: True Blood (S04E02- You Smell Like Dinner)
Release Date: July 2011
Actress: Alexandra Breckenridge, Janina Gavankar & Lindsay Pulsipher
Video Clip Credit: El Amigo

Alexandra Breckenridge











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Janina Gavankar











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Lindsay Pulsipher











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HBO, You're busted!

In the sport of female frontal nudity, no one can beat the pay-cable channel for copious breast scenes ('Game of Thrones,' 'Boardwalk Empire,' etc.) — and that's not a good thing, writes Los Angeles Times Television Critic Mary McNamara...

Although it has not quite recaptured the magic of "The Sopranos," there is no denying that HBO is once again in full stride. With Emmy-winning movies, a panoply of well-done documentaries, successful comedies and dramatic hits both popular — "True Blood" — and critical — "Boardwalk Empire," "Treme" — the premium network bursts with so much justified confidence that it took on the perilous realm of fantasy with the well-received "Game of Thrones."

So maybe it's time to tone down the tits.

I write the word knowing it is going to render my editors and readers apoplectic — why not use the less crude "breasts?" Because I don't mean breasts. Breasts are what you see on cable during a lovemaking scene or when a character is caught unawares or when, as in the season finale of "Game of Thrones," the last of the Targaryens rises, naked and miraculous, from her husband's funeral pyre with three baby dragons clinging to her.

Tits are what you see in a strip club or a brothel, when conversations or action between men, which usually have nothing to do with said strip club or brothel, are surrounded by nameless and silent women lounging or gyrating about in various stages of undress.


In one episode of "Game of Thrones," the upper frontals got so gratuitous — two women teaching themselves the tricks of prostitution while a male character, fully clothed, muses about his personal history and definition of power — that fans took to Twitter to complain. Even the fine finale included a young nude woman washing her particulars while her elderly john monologued about the nature of kings.

These scenes have become as much a hallmark of HBO as historically accurate dramatic series produced by Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg. Other cable networks, mainly Showtime, dabble in the fine sport of female frontal nudity, but no one can beat HBO for hookers — the pole dancers of "The Sopranos," Al Swearengen's Gem Saloon on "Deadwood," the record-breaking female nudity of "Rome," and now, "Boardwalk Empire." HBO has a higher population of prostitutes per capita than Amsterdam or Charlie Sheen's Christmas card list.

Despite their quite disparate geography and genre, the newer series practically revolve around brothels. In "Boardwalk Empire," this makes a certain narrative sense; where there is liquor and gambling there will also be houses of ill repute. In "Game of Thrones," the scenes are more gratuitous — not only do the male characters visit prostitutes with wearisome regularity, one character, a king's counselor known as Littlefinger (Aiden Gillen), owns what appears to be a chain of brothels, which he considers the safest places to conduct his political conversations. This would be fine except, as in "Boardwalk Empire," the only rooms available for meetings are already occupied by half-naked women, lounging about seductively and occasionally playing the harp.

Now, I have not spent much time in the brothels of Prohibition-era Atlantic City or the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, but I'm fairly certain they would include some sort of private office where madams and menfolk could talk. I also wonder about all this free nudity — doesn't money have to exchange hands before the clothes come off? Not to mention the dazzling physical perfection of the women involved, who all appear to be so saucy, sober and healthy that one wonders why anyone bothered to invent penicillin.

There are no male brothels, no scenes of clothed women, or men for that matter, sitting around chatting in a room filled with naked men. Although there is male nudity — men occasionally, though not always, appear shirtless and/or bottomless when they are having sex with women — there are no male brothels, no scenes of clothed women, or men for that matter, sitting around chatting in a room filled with naked men. Well, maybe there was a scene or two like that in "Rome," but you get my point. The brothel scenes are there, ostensibly to make a point about men and power.

But as important to theme and character development as it may be to point out, in case we missed it on the nightly news, that some men enjoy paying for sex and treating women as sexual furniture, HBO has played this card so often that the obligatory scattering of reclining females with their blouses open or absent now elicits laughter more than shock or titillation.

Prostitutes and brothels are obviously and regrettably simply vehicles to work the R rating, to give viewers, if you will pardon the expression and maybe you shouldn't, more bang for the buck. Which isn't just gratuitous and ridiculous, it's lazy and sexist. For all their many functions, women's bodies are not props and prostitution is not something that should be regularly relegated to atmosphere.

It is also hugely unnecessary, an example of HBO uncharacteristically underestimating itself. Perhaps there was a time when people subscribed to the channel in part for the F-bombs and the nudity, but that time has passed. Naked women rule the Internet, "Doctor Who's" beloved Billie Piper plays a call girl on Showtime for goodness sake, and reality TV has redefined prostitution (is it truly more moral to sell one's soul than one's body?). No one subscribes to HBO because of the nudity, gratuitous or not.

So stick with the breasts — the final scene of the "Game of Thrones" season finale may be the best use of female nudity on television ever — and put all the tits away.
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